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worthless-weight-in-gold · 2 years ago

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INT. LIZZIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Close shot of the cup of a neon orange headphone cup over silvery white hair. Pull back to reveal THESPIAN, whip thin and tall with long hair and cloudy eyes, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a stand mirror applying makeup. Multiple articles of clothing are scattered around them, all wildly different aesthetic styles, betraying the try-on session that had been occurring minutes previous. The crackle of a song from another room plays, lyrics unintelligible through the door. Then a shout, and THESPIAN startles, eyeliner pulled against their cheekbone leaving a red mark. THESPIAN: Almost! The world warps and squishes around THESPIAN before mostly stabilizing with only faint ripples that don't affect the angel. The music stops, so does all background noise in the city.

In the paused time, Thespian fixes the mark and then finishes off their makeup. They keep applying shiny things until they feel like they don't want to anymore, then admire their work for a moment and give a satisfied nod. It's a bit messy, but it suits them and their outfit quite well. The mess looks far more on purpose than it actually is.

The world snaps back as Thespian re-enters the time stream, bounding out into the living room while tying their long hair up with a ribbon. In the ponytail, it only reaches their waist. "Yes? Oh! Or--!" They pop down to their knees in front of Lizzie, holding their arms up in a Y to emphasize those standing behind them.

Because of their height, they'll still be pretty comfortably in the picture even kneeling. Thespian turns back to Lizzie to look for approval, excited and delighted, then bounce softly as pictures are taken. Before the last one, Thespian jumps up and scoops Lizzie to hold her bridal style and places a kiss on her cheek as the shutter sound goes off, grinning wildly.

"We gotta go we gotta goooo!" 15 minutes is not a lot of time, and that was -- some amount of minutes ago! "Mischa do you need to be there like, right now right now? 'Cause if you show me where it is I can get you there so, so fast."

An agreement and okay, perfect! Thespian looks at the directions on Mischa's phone, then pauses the world. They don't give Mischa a heads up about it, or even acknowledge they get where the place is because pausing time to do something without drawing attention to them is purely out of instinct at this point.

So they pick up Mischa and start the trek, getting a little bit lost along the way and having to look at his phone a few times and street signs nearby that don't really line up before they make it to what they're almost definitely sure is the venue. Then they find a place without anyone standing around, and that doesn't have any security cameras pointed at it; which turns out to be the back alley. Thespian places Mischa down. Then realizes he probably needs his cool music stuff, and they wander back to the apartment and grab Mischa's stuff -- some random things that look like they could be related to music stuff, too, like a weird coin on the floor that might be a pick or something and a thumbdrive Thespian picks off the coffee table -- before wandering back and dropping them off then returning once again to the apartment.

Thespian closes the door then re-enters the time stream, sending Lizzie and Emily a winning smile. "Okay! No more rush needed. Also I'm pretty sure I got the directions down." On the second trip there they'd only taken one wrong turn and had realized it pretty fast. In fact, they looked rather proud of themselves when they said that last sentence because they were. Directions were hard, but Thespian was doing so good!

Anyway though, before leaving: Thespian held their hands up and studied Emily carefully. Thoughts rattled around in their brain for a little bit. "Beautiful, showstopping, adorable." They declared, then turned to Lizzie and studied her as well. "Ethereal, sleek, gorgeous. Did Emily do your eyes?" Looked like Emily's work, a little bit, they were pretty sure. They pepper Lizzie's hand with kisses -- Lizzie first because they complimented Emily first, and hand because she's wearing makeup -- then place a long kiss on Emily's hair -- also avoiding kisses messing up her makeup.

No worries about kiss marks left because Thespian had gotten bored before putting anything on their lips, just sporting a faux-wet dark eyeshadow look and lashes plus a heavy hand of pink highlighter on their nose, not very blended out.

@worthless-weight-in-gold //

FADE IN... A lone billboard flickers in the night, atop a mid-size apartment building made of red brick. In the style of an exploitation film from the 1970s, its text reads ███'s WRAG TAG WRECKING CREW! The official name has been scratched out from decades of wear and tear. This side of the city is quiet. All quiet, except for— INT. LIZZIE & EMJAY'S APARTMENT — NIGHT The violent smacking of a palm against a CD player, one from the late 90s or early 2000s. The force of it rattles all the other shit that's on the set of drawers. Perfumes, lipsticks, a fidget spinner. A picture frame falls flat on its belly. We eventually see LIZZIE, 29, almost 30, a short young woman with a curl of wet hair sticking out of a towel. She's using her other hand to hold a towel around herself together. She has faced off with this CD player before but it has never won. The song finally plays. When I'm out walking I strut my stuff And I'm so strung out I'm high as a kite I just might stop to check you out

"How many times have I told you to get rid'a that thing?" Emily asks, brushing past Lizzie on the way to the vanity. And it's the vanity, not her vanity, because it's more of a shared space—sort of like everything else in this apartment, even though it's meant just for the two of them. She touches up her highlighter, keen on reflecting like a disco ball, and puts on jeweltry.

"It's, like, a relic at this point, Emjay. I can't get rid of it," Lizzie protests. "Besides, trust me, I went to Best Buy the other day. Fully intent on getting one, mind you. Shit cost, like, $50. That's, like, two nights of tips." Then she starts getting dressed with their backs turned to each other. Hell, who cares at this point.

"Yeah, Liz, but it's yer daggone berth-day," the girl from a ways out of Atlanta throws right back. "You deserve to treat yourself."

Now fully dressed in a fuchsia slip dress, Lizzie rests her chin on Emily's shoulder. "Why do that when I've got my best friends to do it for me?" She usually doesn't act this spoiled, but it's her daggone berth-day. She lets Emily do a bit of her makeup for fun and a few more Violent Femmes songs play before...

The pair step out of Emily's bedroom (yes, Lizzie keeps her shitty CD player in there) and present their outfits to the one waiting in the living room. The blonde does a simple spin. Lizzie's a lot more theatrical about it, fingers pinching either side of her dress and hoisting it up just so as she does a little shindig. Peacocking to her boyfriend, Mischa.

Who rolls his eyes. "It took you two long enough," he says. Then, in a louder voice: "Thes! You ready? I'm not saying it's your fault or anything, but I've literally been waiting here for almost an hour and a half. I have to be at soundcheck in 15 minutes."

Yes, for Lizzie's birthday, they'll be en route to The Wet Spot, one of the better venues in town, where Mischa's band's going to play a special set. A brand new song, apparently.

"We can't go yet! We have to take pictures," Lizzie says with a pout. "Thes, stand in the middle so it's not so obvious you're the tallest." She's usually not in the greatest mood, but nothing can burst her bubble tonight. The four of them are unstoppable as far as she's concerned, and that's to be celebrated.

#mutatedangels | lizzie and emily and mischa & thespian | four's a party!

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 years ago

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Toru Kirishima x reader

prompt: Kirishima meets Yaeka’s new school teacher (aka: this is my new emotional support character)

He was waiting outside the school, as usual, for Yaeka to come out.

He was as common place as anyone at this point, but Kirishima had to assume that he still most look very out of place huddled around all the moms. Like a big neon ‘does not belong here’ sign over his head or something.

The bell rang and almost instantly children poured out of the school and to their waiting parents. Yaeka came out a few moments later, her typical calm seeming almost a saint like serenity amongst all the screaming, chattering children.

“Good work today, little lady.” Kirishima greeted. To which Yaeka nodded once. “Did anything fun happen today?”

“We got a new teacher.” She said after a momentary pause. “Kimura-sensei had to take a….leave of absence.” Yaeka seemed to be trying hard to remember the phrase that was told to her. “[Y/N]-sensei is our teacher now.”

“Oh really?” Kirishima started thinking about all the fun he & his classmates had when they had a substitute for a few days. Basically having one for the rest of the school year was something he would have killed for as a kid. “Do you like them?”

The little girl nodded once again. Training her eyes to the ground after this time as he cheeks flushed. “She’s nice. And pretty.”

“Pretty hn?” He wanted to tease Yaeka a little about that, but his lecherous joke would probably go right over her innocent little head (and get him probably 40 lashes from the boss for exposing his daughter to such comments), so he decided against it.

Just as he was about to drop the subject of the new teacher, and walk the little lady home, an unfamiliar figure stepped out from the school yard gate with a smile. Given her age, and indeed how cute she was, Kirishima had to assume she was the new teacher. “[Y/L/N]-sensei.”

“Yaeka-chan! I see you haven’t left yet. Good. This must be the famous Kirishima I’ve heard so much about.”

The yakuza was taken aback. “You know my name?”

The young teacher giggled a little. “Oh, yes. Sorry. Since I’m new I had all the children draw pictures of their families and their day to help me get to know them better. Kirishima-san popped up quite a bit in Yaeka-chan’s drawing.” Kirishima wasn’t a teacher, but he had to admit, that was a really good idea. He also had to admit that his chest swelled up with pride a little bit hearing that Yaeka had put him in her drawings. He hoped it wasn’t anything….incriminating.

“If I have to admit,�� she added before bending forward to whisper at them both, “Yakea-chan’s was one of the best drawings.” It was clear that Yaeka’s chest was now swelling with pride, even if she couldn’t look at her new teacher. She smiled, and then stood. “I’m [Y/L/N], by the way. You can call me [Y/N]-san. All the kids do.”

“Kirishima. Litt-I mean…Yaeka’s gurdian.” He replied before taking her offered hand to shake it. It had been a long time since anyone offered him their hand.

“I wanted to mingle with the parents a bit, since I’ve missed the open houses and such. I’m glad I got to meet with you. Yaeka-chan is certainly special.”

“Yes. She is.” He agreed instantly.

“And you must be very special too.”

Kirishima was taken aback by the comment, and [Y/N]’s bright smile. He immediately understood why the kids were so taken with her. If he had had a teacher as nice and as pretty as this one, maybe he would have paid attention more and done something better with his life. “Thank….you.”

“Well, I should probably meet with some of the other parents. It was nice meeting you. See you tomorrow Yaeka-chan!”

Yaeka waved at her teacher as she went to meet with the other children. Kirishima caught himself waving as well. When he turned to look at the little lady to see if she was ready to go home, she looked up at him with that piercing, knowing stare she had sometimes. “W-W…What…?”

The petite red head didn’t say anything. Just turned on her heels and started to head home. Kirishima instantly caught up with his long legs, but looked back once at the bluster of school kids and their shiny new teacher.

#kumichou musume to sewagakari #the yakuza's guide to babysitting #toru kirishima #yaeka sakuragi #toru kirishima x reader #kumicho musume to sewagakari x reader #the yakuza's guide to babysitting x reader #the yakuza's guide to babysitting scenario #kumicho musume to sewagakari scenario #scenarios #imagine #toru kirishima scenario

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gamebunny-advance · 3 years ago

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Kaynyane (Sketches)

So I was inspired by Civilian AU!Anon’s Kayane and Sayu swap to try my hand at “Kayane as a digital idol.” (I hope you don’t mind XP)

With a few more iterations, I think this could be refined into something cool, but this was just for fun, so I might not come back to this UoU. Also, don’t expect me to do my take on all of Civil!Anon’s swaps XP. The idea for this one just really resonated with me, so I gave it a shot.

The last drawing was the first sketch I did a few days ago, and the rest is what I did today.

I’ll put some design notes under the cut for those of you that care about that kinda thing.

At first, I thought turning her into a catgirl was a little cliché, but when I realized that her final form could be a "reverse catgirl”, I was sold on trying to make it work. Plus, it suits her: she already had a cat mouth, her personality is a little catty, and the name pun basically wrote itself.

The outfit is really just a cutesier version of her original kimono. I added the blotches to represent the pattern of a calico cat so that there was a reason to reuse the brown in Kayane’s palette (more on that later). I think it’s cute, it’s just a little boring XP. But this is only her first form, so I guess it doesn’t need to be that extravagant.

While I didn’t draw any of her mid-forms, her gimmick is that every upgrade makes her a little more “furry” until we get to the final form. I thought it was thematically appropriate for her to explore another side of internet fandom the same way Sayu did for otaku, but TBH it’s a very shallow connection~.

I had a hard time really adding the “digital” elements of the “digital idol” part of the prompt because I feel like the brown in Kayane’s original color scheme “grounds” her too much. However, I didn’t want to change her palette too much, so she was still recognizably “Kayane.” Then I got the idea to make all of her accessories neon. Since her outfit is mostly black, I figured they would “pop” and they kinda do. If I were more focused and made the lines a little cleaner, then maybe the effect would look better XP.

The way they work is a little confusing though: so they do exist in a 3D space and react to gravity, but they are literally made of the lines that you see there. They’re just “shapes” that float in the air. In the original sketch, the bells were lightbulbs and only her whiskers were the floating neon, but I thought it would be cooler if there were more neon elements.

In the original sketch, she also had paw gloves, which I still think are cute, but since they’re black like her outfit, they got kinda lost if her hands ever crossed with her body, so I decided to take them off. I think one of the mid transformations would get them back though.

I feel like her final form could be more menacing, but this is the only sketch I’ve done with the idea XP. If the ears were more detailed, then I think it would elicit the level of “disgust” I’m looking for. Right now, it just looks kinda “weird”. I’d also like to play with the idea of turning her into a “big cat,” like a lynx or a jaguar or something, rather than a literal big house cat.

#gbunny draws #nsr #no straight roads #kayane #kayane nsr #civilian au #i guess?#it's not officially a part of that au

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tumbling-darkling · 4 years ago

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Midnight Hang-Outs

This is a small crossover between Danny Phantom and DC! (Specifically Danny and Harley Quinn!) Following the prompts from Day 11 and 12 - Midnight and Scars (more of mentioned than revolving around it) Harley might be slightly ooc because I don’t read a lot of DC comics but maybe consider it more of like AU Harley Quinn. Mother hen. She feeds the vigilantes of Gotham on slow nights.

Harley glanced over to the boy sitting next to her on the rooftop of the Gotham Bank, she had been planning to break into it to draw out some fun with any nearby vigilantes but instead she had spotted the scrawniest looking glowing teen she’d ever seen. Well he was the only glowing teen she’d ever seen, but the poor kid was struggling against some freak in a white suit.

He had already devoured about 10 of the breakfast sandwiches she bought from a nearby 24 hour fast food joint, she couldn’t remember the name but her pal, Jeremy, always worked late shifts and gave her most of the grease filled wraps for free. Which she got a total of 20 and was beginning to worry that it wasn’t enough for this endless void. She thought she could calculate this kind of thing better based on Batsy’s kids, then again none of them had powers. That must be the factor throwing her off.

She glanced over him again, taking in his features for probably the hundredth time since she spotted him. White hair that gently wisped around his face like he was constantly underwater, pale blue-green skin with neon green freckles that sparkled like stars in the night, toxic green eyes that matched the freckles, flecks of blue hidden within the irises that shone in the right light. He hand pointed ears and little baby fangs, and his suit itself reminded her of the superheroes she’s faced before, but the material seemed all wrong when she got a closer look. It wasn’t spandex, or that thick armour like fibre that Batsy likes to use. She didn’t know what it was made out of. That flaming looking D was enough to hint at a superhero gig, like Superman and that ‘S’ on his chest. She didn’t care that it was supposed to be a symbol for hope, his name was Superman and that thing was an S, end of conversation.

The kid had taken off those gloves in order to eat, she didn’t blame him though, eating with gloves on was weird, and those white gloves would stain like a motherfucker. What caught her attention about it was the scars. Little one littered this kid's hands, and then there was a ligament scar coating his left hand. It was the brightest of all the scars, glowing slightly a wicked green as if he was still being electrocuted.

She turned her gaze back to the streets below, “So, what are you doing out this late?” She asked, avoiding sensitive topics like the scar. “It has to be way past midnight at this point.”

The kid glanced over to her, then shrugged, “had to chase Boxy all the way out here, the dude flies fast for a ghost obsessed in boxes.”

Harley glanced back over, noticing the kid now had finished the last of the sandwiches as he looked in the bag for more, shoving the garbage into it once he confirmed there was nothing left, “Boxy? Was that the freak in white?”

The kid shook his head, “nah, that was a government agent. G.I.W, or the Guys in White. Must’ve followed me, cornered me after I was already exhausted from chasing Boxy all over town. Boxy is the Box Ghost, blue ghost dude in overalls, fairly harmless but he can be a pain in the ass when he wants to be.”

“Want me to blow the rest of those agents up for you?” Harley asked, leaning closer while flashing a sinister grin.

The kid jerked back, “no! No it’s fine, just caught me off guard! I can handle them just fine, you don’t need to blow anyone up!” He squeaked out quickly, wildly waving his hands around. Harley couldn’t help but grin at the display, he reminded her a lot of Batsy’s kids. Energetic, good hearts (most of the time), think they can handle the world.

“So are you one of Batsy’s kids? Harley voiced her thoughts.

The kid blinked owlishly at her, “Batsy’s… you mean Batman? The Batman?”

Harley shrugged, “yeah, Batsy. He has quite a lot of them so I like to try and stay updated when he gets a new kid. You almost fit the bill, young teen, dark past, though the powers would be new.”

“How do you know I have a dark past?”

“Well, you said you were a ghost, right? Meaning you died and judging by your age, died before you even finished high school. I’d call that a dark past,” she kept out the lingering question of how he died, that wasn’t something you exactly ask someone when you first meet them. “So you aren’t one of Batsy’s kids?”

The kid shook his head, “nope,” he popped the p, “never even met the dark knight before. I barely visit Gotham, well anywhere if I can help it, I try to keep my problems in my home turf.”

“I see, you know what, I should’ve known better. Batsy would never let his kids run around this late anyway,” she hummed. “I did once see him chew a Robin out for fighting crime past his curfew, it got me arrested for sticking around to watch but boy was it worth it!” She laughed. She was surprised that Batman hadn’t gotten to this kid yet, anyhow. He didn’t always stick around Gotham ever since he joined that hero club, but that just meant that this dude had even more of a chance to find this kid. Must be dumb luck or something.

“Batman puts curfews on his sidekicks?” The kid asked, mouth agape.

“Well duh, the guy is all about the well-being of his kids. He has a no killing rule but he gets close to breaking it when one of his kids gets almost killed. He keeps them well fed, makes sure they sleep, I know because I can hear him from across rooftops at times and I fight enough of his kids to notice they aren’t skin and bones like you.”

The kid looked down at his ungloved hands, and she noticed him tracing the pattern of the ligament scar lightly with his other hand. His expression changed as he seemed to run through a series of thoughts before he spoke again, “why did you help me?” He asked, not looking up to meet her eyes, “you are a villain, right? You fight Batman and Robin, and other superheroes too if they face you. You know I’m not a villain, you said so yourself. So why help me? Wouldn’t it be better to just let a vigilante kid get knocked off so you don’t have to deal with him in future crimes?”

Harley felt her heart shatter, who the fuck hurt this kid like this? “I’m not some heartless bitch,” she said in a matter of fact tone, “you and all the teen sidekicks or vigilantes out there are still fucking kids. I have morals, and some villains don’t have the same morals as me, but seeing you getting kicked around by some freak in an alley where no one could see you? That kind of shit rubs me the wrong way. I fight teen heroes from time to time because I know they can handle it, they can fight back and I myself won’t stoop so low as to kill them if I manage to get in a few lucky hits.” She lightly nudged his shoulder, “and it’s not like you’ve personally wronged me or anything. I felt like being nice, helping out. You seem like a good kid, so why not help you out? Maybe one day I can call a favour and you can distract Bats while I kidnap the president?” She joked.

The kid looked up suddenly, sending his hair in rippling waves as he was giving her a wide eyed and the most worried look imaginable. She couldn’t help but let out another laugh, “I’m joking!” She clarified. “But I think we could have some pretty interesting game nights with Ivy. Not illegal game night, more like Uno or something. Maybe just a little gambling.”

The kid relaxed again, “well… uh… thanks. For helping me. And the food. And talking,” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at the sky.

“No problem, be sure to come visit again. Hey, maybe I can even introduce you to Bats at some point! Make a big show and pretend you are a villain and then BAM! Just kidding he’s just a glowing vigilante I helped out once!” She stood up, stretching her arms a little, “be sure to take it easy on your way to your home by the way, maybe take a nap or something on the way there.”

The kid nodded with a smile and stood up with her, then paused as shock filled his eyes and he spun quickly towards Harley, “Wait- how do you know I sleep-?”

Harley laughed, “well, I don’t think ghosts normally eat, so I’m assuming you sleep too,” she offered a soft smile, “just take it easy, and hey, if you ever find yourself in trouble.” Harley then pulled out a business card she usually kept for shits and giggles, handing over the poorly designed card to the kid, “know that you have a friend in Gotham who’s ready to help. And who knows how to get Batsy’s attention the fastest.” She winked.

The kid took the card, a confused grin tugging at his lips, “thanks. Hey, uh. I go by Phantom. Since I never really introduced myself.”

“Well Phantom, nice to meet you,” Harley grinned back.

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years ago

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$1 Smooches

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Everlark and a Kissing Booth [submitted by @mandelion82]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: Modern AU. ~1600 words _____________

“That game was rigged!” Katniss seethed.

“Lower your voice, Brainless! Do you want the carnies to curse you? I don’t, I’m standing right next to you!” Johanna hissed, slapping a hand over Katniss’ mouth.

“I’m sure carnival workers consider that a derogatory term,” Prim sighed, done with her companions silliness.

“Anything is offensive nowadays,” said Johanna, winded, after Katniss shoved her away.

Katniss scowled, giving another shove for good measure, “Cut it out, Johanna!”

Prim rolled her eyes. “You are aware, this is a charity event benefiting the hospital I work for, right? all booths are operated by volunteering hospital employees, which means the ring-the-bottle game wasn’t rigged,” Prim stared pointedly at her sister, “and nobody is getting cursed!” She glared at Johanna next, “Behave!”

There was nothing Katniss hated more than disappointing her baby sister. “I’m sorry, Prim, we’ll be better,” Katniss glared at her friend, “Right Jo?”

“Fine! But I demand a greasy, deep fried treat, and a big sugary drink to go with it!”

“Yay!” Primrose clapped, hooking her slender arms through her sister and friend’s elbows, “Lets have some fun!”

The trio came to a food booth, Prim piped in, “I’ll ordered us a funnel cake and two giant lemonades, you guys go find another game, I don’t mind waiting in line,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah…and then we can go to the booth my department set up. My favorite nurse in the whole world is manning it!”

Katniss and Johanna walked past the inflatables and the bouncy castle, trying not to bump into families with rambunctious children, and then, they saw a ridiculously loud-excuse-of-an-eyesore-shack painted in pepto pink, decked to the gills with giant red and pink hearts sprouting from every corner of the stand, and a large, white sign crowning the top, announcing: “$1 Smooches”, spelled in blinking light bulbs, with a neon yellow arrow pointing downwards.

“A kissing booth?” Johanna arched her eyebrows, curiously.

The queue to the booth was very long and to Katniss’ surprise, composed mostly by female patrons.

“What. Is. that?!” Gasped Johanna, pointing to the booth while fanning herself with her free hand. Without further comment, Jo grabbed Katniss’ hand and marched straight for the kissing booth line.

“What—?”

“Come on Brainless, I have two singles in my wallet and a tube of chapstick ready for the hunk selling kisses!”

Katniss was momentarily confused, until she saw a muscular man with a boyish, lopsided smile, taking a crisp dollar bill from a very enthusiastic woman; a second later, the man puckered up his pink lips, and leaned forward, just outside the big window of the booth, forearms flexing deliciously against the sleeves of his polo shirt; a wayward curl of his ashy blonde hair fell over his forehead in just the right way.

“Oh!” Katniss gulped, falling into step with her best friend.

The line advanced impressively fast, for how long it was. In a matter of minutes, which was truly appreciated, since nobody particularly enjoyed being sandwiched between the baking sun and the suffocating blacktop of the lot. The girls were second to next line, but Johanna started sneezing uncontrollably, thanks to the cigarette smoke of a passerby.

“Ugh! This is a hospital’s parking lot! A no smoke zone!” Jo rasped angrily, “Here!” She shoved a balled up wad of cash into Katniss’ hands, and before her friend could stop her, she went after the smoking a-hole, to rip him a new one.

Katniss found herself at the front of line very suddenly, and the man beckoned her forward, lopsided grin, so inviting, she stepped up without consciously deciding to.

The man studied her quizzically for a moment, “Hello, there,” he greeted, “Are you an employee at Panem General, or are you a guest? You look familiar,” he said.

“Guest,” Katniss answered, a little too fast. She stepped backwards, rethinking her situation, the woman directly behind her, gave her a weak push forward, to keep her from stepping on her toes.

The man looked at the ball of cash in Katniss’ hands and smiled brightly. “Would you like to make a donation to Panem General’s pediatric wing? Every dollar counts,” he said softly.

Katniss nodded bashfully, not really understanding his words, too preoccupied with how velvety soft the man’s voice was. She handed him the whole wad, which apparently was $5 in crinkled $1 bills.

The guy took only one, and placed the rest of the money on the counter, next to Katniss’ hand, before leaning forward to brush his lips against Katniss’.

There was no telling how long the kiss lasted, but judging by the aggravated buzzing of complaints coming from behind Katniss, it had been long enough to warrant an annoyed calling out.

“Hey! Stop holding up the smooches!”

Katniss opened her eyes, shifting down to the ball of her feet. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and stretched on the tip of her toes during her kiss. She stared at the guy, who looked slightly dazed as he admired her back; his smile seemed even more crooked than before.

“Oh my gosh, you found our booth!” Prim cried out, startling Katniss. “Oh, and you met nurse Mellark!”

“What?!” The crowd behind Katniss grew restless and annoyed by the second. “I haven’t met any nurses—“

Katniss peered back at the booth suspiciously, expecting to see this nurse her sister spoke so much about, but the only person currently in the booth was the kissable blonde man, watching his sister with arched brows and surprise in his deep blue eyes.

“Hi, Peeta!” Prim waved, the guy in the booth waved back, but the next person in line stood in front of him, blocking his view.

“Wait…” Katniss pulled Prim further out, before the mob of angry women throttled them, “That man is nurse Mellark?” She asked, pointing back as discreetly as she could; the man was looking at them with badly veiled concern, while still trying to do his job, as host of the smooching booth. “You mean to tell me, the handsome man kissing half the fair is the nurse Mellark you’re always gushing about, with the home baked cookies and the cute little drawings for the oncology patients?” Her gray eyes x-rayed her sister.

“Uh, yeah,” Prim sounded a bit too nonchalant. “He’s amazing, let me tell you,” she sort of mumbled, studying her cuticles.

“Hey! What did I miss?” Johanna came back munching on a box of nachos, swimming in melted cheese. “Oooh! Elephant ear!” She said, snatching the funnel cake Prim was holding awkwardly.

“Primrose forgot to mention that her most favorite nurse in the whole world is a HE!” Katniss snapped.

“What?!”

“What’s so wrong about that? Men can be nurses,” Prim shrugged.

“But you didn’t tell me he was a man!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were a sexist pig, Katniss.”

“I am not!”

Johanna giggled, stuffing her face with fair food.

“Nurse Mellark is a great care provider who loves children and does his absolute best to bring joy during the worst time of our patients’ lives…What does it matter if he’s a guy? He’s great! What did you expect anyway?” Prim countered defensively, stubbornly.

“I don’t know! An elderly lady, with lots of motherly wisdom or something… I mean, every time you talked about nurse Mellark, you mentioned delicious homemade pastries, and finger paints, and sweet bedtime stories… I never pictured nurse Mellark to be so…”

“Manly,” Johanna finished, looking at the man in the booth, dreamily, finally having caught on. “He’s more of a tall tree trunk I’d like to climb like a koala bear in heat… now where’s my cash, brainless, my lips are ready for some smacking,”

“Johanna!” Katniss growled, but her friend waved her off. A thought occurred to her just then. “Prim…” Katniss whispered into her sister’s ear, “Are you…okay with this?” She said motioning to the 20 or so women in line. “Are you okay with all these people kissing nurse Mellark?”

Primrose’s lips twitched, “Why wouldn’t I be? This booth was sort of my idea… it was actually more about Doctor Odair selling the kisses, but nurse Mellark was very good sport, volunteering, ” She rolled her blue eyes.

“Mmm… I just thought, maybe you had a thing for him?”

“For Peeta?!” Prim said loudly, before laughing hysterically.

Katniss’ eyes shifted everywhere, and to her chagrin, the man in question— Peeta, apparently— looked up at his name.

“Not so loud!” Katniss hissed, but got interrupted by a booming voice.

“Ladies, it is time for me to take a break.” Announced nurse Mellark— Peeta— A chorus of disgruntled patrons filled the air, but the man raised his hands placatingly, “Not to worry everyone, my pinch hitter, Doctor Odair, is ready to take over!”

As if by magic, the most attractive man Katniss had ever seen in her life— besides the beautiful male nurse, of course— popped from beside nurse Mellark and a collective swooning sigh rapped over the small crowd.

Prim laughed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you guys properly. You’re going to love Peeta!”

“Hell no! I’m paying double for the new guy! You gals go ahead,” Johanna called, wolf whistling at the newcomer, waving two dollar bills in the air.

A moment later, Prim had dragged Katniss to meet her most favorite nurse, secretly crossing her fingers as she made introductions…she thought Peeta and Katniss were perfect for each other, and she wholeheartedly hoped they would kick it off right away, so when she was wrinkly and white haired, she could tell her grand nephews and nieces the story of how their grandma paid a dollar to kiss their grandpa for the very first time.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter 2021 #Valentine’s Day #alliswell21 #submission #prompt

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lunar-jimin · 4 years ago

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i can be temptation, you can be my sin

Pairing: Jimin x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Genre: smut, tiny side of angst and fluff, office!au (not the TV show), coworkers!au

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dom!Jimin, sub!reader, spanking, fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk, degradation, reader sends nudes

Summary: Between bragging about his prolific sex life and his horrific design ideas, Jimin has managed to make your work life a living hell. Then one little accident sends you hurtling towards him, and as hard as you try, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

A/N: This is a commission for @ppersonna for @ficswithluv‘s ChangesWithLuv project dedicated to raising money for BLM. I’m so sorry this fic took forever to write (I’m not sure why), but I hope that you enjoy it! A huge shout-out to my lovely beta-reader, @jinterlude. She’s the best!

| m.list |

“Jimin…” a groan tumbles out of you, “that shade of yellow is-“

“Bright and comforting?”

“-awful.”

His thick lips curve into a pout, eyes doing little to conceal his mock hurt. Exasperation runs through your body, grasping your brain in its clutches. Your entire week has been filled with Jimin’s progressively hideous design ideas for a book cover, to the point you’re beginning to wonder how he got hired at all. The piss-yellow mock-up in front of you is just another straw in the stack that is going to break your back.

“What?” he looks confused, “You said you wanted something eye-catching, and I would have to say this is pretty darn, eye-catching.”

“It’s blinding is what it is. Maybe if we toned it back a bit…” your eyes drift over the design, horror twisting in your gut.

You want to cry. A week ago, your boss had enthusiastically paired you with Jimin to design a book cover for an up and coming YA author, claiming the two of you were the best designers she had, even promising the both of you a promotion if things went well. You aren’t sure what designs Jimin had produced in the past, because what he was bringing to the table now wasn’t much better than a shitty college club poster.

Jimin didn’t make for great company either. Sure he had legs that went for miles, and a face that would outshine angels, but his mouth was filthy. If the two of you weren’t bickering over fonts and hex codes, you were stuck listening to him brag about how loud he could make a girl scream. What’s worse is that while your brain was logical enough to know that Jimin was no good for you, your body had other ideas. As a result, you often went home after a long day, frustrated in more ways than one.

With a little luck- and quite a bit of compromising- you manage to make it to five ‘o’clock without murdering anyone. You manage to talk Jimin down off the yellow in exchange for completing the pitch presentation by yourself. Presentations are time-consuming and tedious, but it’s better than being out of a job because Jimin is set on making the cover look like a neon highlighter.

A half an hour later, you're collapsing on your soft couch, ready to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the weekend. A sigh of relief carries an iota of the stress out of your body as you sink back into the welcoming cushions. You grimace as the tension in your neck became apparent, and you feel the growing ball of angst you have for Jimin tighten. You were going to send him the bill if you had to go to a chiropractor.

In an attempt to move on from your hectic week and into your relaxing weekend, you wander to the kitchen, searching for the merlot you have yet to open. The tall green bottle greets you from the counter. You find a glass and watch as the red liquid quickly fills it. You savor a long sip as you let your mind stray away from the thoughts of work and stress and into notions of self-care and relaxation.

An hour later, having eaten a frozen pizza, you find yourself soaking down into the hot bath suds. The heat begins to draw the ache out of your sore muscles. Once again, Jimin flashes through your mind, coupled with resentment. Your eyes prickle at the thought, sick and tired of Jimin living in your mind rent-free. Why is he preoccupying your brain instead of Seokjin, the cute cook you matched with on Tinder?

While you had yet to meet in person, you and Seokjin had hit off right away when he opened with the cheesiest pick-up line you’d ever heard. He worked at a five-star restaurant a few blocks from your office, but you’d never met in person. That didn’t mean that you hadn’t had a few scandalous conversations. You weren’t usually one for sexting, but Seokjin’s way with words left you little choice.

Eager to take Jimin off your mind, you grab your phone from the side of the tub, quickly opening your messages. You’re much too impatient for small talk, so in the interest of sparking some saucy dialogue, you take a few snaps of your bubble-covered nude body. You suck in a breath as you hit send, anxious for your reaction. It wasn’t the first time you had sent him a nude photo, but it didn’t make you any less nervous. Seokjin was one of the most attractive men you had ever had the privilege of laying eyes on, and it was only natural for you to question your appearance in comparison to his. He would always reassure you, though, flattering you with compliments, both sultry and sweet.

When he doesn’t respond fifteen minutes, a knot forms in your stomach. What if he didn’t like them? What if he was seeing someone else? What if he lost interest? You check your messages with hurried concern. What you find on your screen mortifies. In your haste to tease Seokjin, you had accidentally sent the photos to the last person you texted: Jimin. Worse yet, the little grey “read” sits just beneath the last picture. As you stare at the screen with abject horror, a little speech-bubble pops-up. Your stomach twists in knots, anticipating of what he might say striking you with fear.

The Office Brat: if you wanted a piece of me baby girl, all you had to do was ask 20:33

You suck in a breath when he immediately follows the text with a picture of his own. He’s shirtless, lip between his teeth as he grabs his prominent erection through grey sweatpants. You can’t help the whine that slips out of your mouth at the image. You try to ignore the heat that rushes to your core as your legs rub together. When your senses finally return to you, you drop your phone on the bath mat before sinking into the water, leaving only your face out. The photo is still seared into your brain, taunting you with his delicious abs and what turned out to be a healthy sized dick.

You immediately resolve to forget it ever happened. You spend the rest of the weekend attempting to distract yourself through a binge of every cheesy rom-com you can find on Netflix. You sent Jimin a quick text, informing him that the photos weren’t actually for him. He hadn’t responded, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. It certainly didn’t aid the dread building in your stomach at the thought of having to face him again on Monday.

When you walk into the office two days later, you’re relieved to find that Jimin seemed nowhere to be found. You pray that he actually had an iota of shame and quit out of humiliation. Your hopes are crushed when not five minutes later, you notice him prancing toward your cubicle, his ever-present smirk plastered across his face. When he reaches you, he plops down in an extra desk chair, arms crossed across his chest, eyes looking you up and down. You can’t help but shiver at the knowledge that he knows precisely what you look like underneath your work clothes.

“What do you want, Jimin?” you sigh.

“Haven’t I made that obvious, baby?” He grins. “I want you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Jimin, what happened this weekend was an accident,” you give him a firm glare, “so no matter how much you claim to want me, I want nothing to do with you.:

He raises his eyebrow, eyes locked on yours, before standing and walking to you. His breath is warm on your neck as he leans over to whisper in your ear. You clench your thighs in an attempt to extinguish the heat beginning to burn in between them.

“We’ll see about that, now won’t we, baby girl?”

He pulls away with a smirk, before turning to head to his desk. Your eyes trail to his ass as he leaves, only worsening the situation in your underwear. You silently vow to yourself not to fall for his tricks. You have more self-respect than to allow yourself to be yet another notch in Park Jimin’s bedpost.

Brushing thoughts of your troublesome coworker from your mind, you turn back to your bright computer screen, determined to lose yourself in your work. Your eyes widen when you find an email from Jimin taunting you in your inbox. Heart pounding fast, you click on it, half afraid to find another nude of his (it wouldn’t be beyond him). Instead of a naked Jimin, a PDF with the details for the cover design presents itself. You’re taken aback. Not only had Jimin swapped the yellow for soft coral, but he practically redesigned the entire thing. Scrolling through, you’re embarrassed to admit that it was nearly as good, if not better, then some of your best works.

You immediately realize that this means he’s been pulling your leg for over a week. A groan escapes you, and your head falls forward, smashing into your keyboard. Of course, he was a fucking amazing graphic artist; you shouldn’t have expected anything less. Fury floods down your spine as it dawns on you that it was all a trick to get out of doing the PowerPoint. Now you were stuck making an entire presentation, just because Jimin had pretended to love piss-yellow.

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to march to his desk and strangle him. White anger flashes in front of your eyes, resentment growing to cover every waking thought in your brain. When you finally calm enough to rationalize that murder isn’t going to get you anywhere, you decide that your best course of action is to avoid him until the day of the two of you are scheduled to present to the board.

The world isn’t being kind to you today, because when you finally head to the break room for lunch, you immediately run into your new worst enemy.

“What’s got your panties in a knot now, love?”

You glare at him, not trusting yourself not to stab him with your salad fork. He smirks in response, before turning to leave. At the last second, he turns back to you.

“Have fun with that PowerPoint.”

You want to scream.

“Jimin, I swear to god, you little shit, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna what? Spank me?” His cheeky grin widens. “You know, baby, I’m usually a dom, but if it meant feeling your sweet pussy, I’d definitely be a sub.”

You are lucky that no one else is around to hear his words because you are mortified enough. Red creeps across your face as Jimin winks at you. When he finally leaves, you collapse back onto the counter, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. You swear to high heaven that you’ve never hated someone so much in your life, yet feel so attracted to them at the same time. As infuriated as you are with him, you are even more infuriated with your inability to control your body’s reaction to him.

Why did he have to know exactly what to say to soak your panties? Why was he so hellbent on getting you to sleep with him? Why did you ever have to be assigned to him in the first place? These questions plagued your mind as the week trickled slowly on. Your anger with Jimin was beginning to be diluted with anxiety about your upcoming presentation. No part of you looked forward to standing in front of the company board to make a potential career-changing pitch with the person you hated most in the world. Not to mention public speaking made you want to hide under a rock and never come out.

Thankfully, Jimin is kind enough to offer to do most of the talking- even if his original deal included a blow job- but it also meant you had less control if things started to go south. By the time Friday rolled around, you’re shitting yourself with fear. Jimin does his best to calm you down as you sit in hard plastic chairs outside the boardroom, waiting to be called in.

“Look, we’ll do fine. You made an amazing presentation, and I’m pretty brilliant at charming people if I do say so myself.”

He reaches over and gives your hand a small squeeze. You’re just nervous enough to offer him a small smile. For what it’s worth, he wasn’t terrible at comforting people.

“Thanks, Jimin. I’m sure everything will go great.”

Everything did not go great. In fact, it went very, very badly. Somewhere out there, someone must have hexed you because that’s the only reason you can think of that would explain why you placed Jimin’s original yellow design in the slideshow instead of his new one. You feel terrible. Not only have you fucked up in front of the entire company, but you’ve put both of your jobs on the line.

As soon as the meeting ended, you rushed off to the bathroom. You already embarrassed yourself enough as it is, you don’t need everyone to see you cry too. Tears roll down your face as you sit on the toilet, praying for the sudden end of your existence.

You had one job and somehow you had managed to fuck it up. You managed to ruin your career. You’re going to end up jobless. Broke. Destitute.

You’re jolted out of your thoughts by a knock at the door.

“Doll? Are you in there?”

Jimin’s voice is soft and comforting, and if you weren’t so afraid of humiliating yourself, you would have gladly welcomed his arms around you. But you are, so you try to stifle your sobs in an attempt to make him go away.

“Doll? I know you’re in there. I can hear you crying,” he sighs, “Please just let me in. I just want to talk.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you debate your options. If he already knows you’re crying, what difference will it make if he sees you? You stand up from your seat on the toilet, make a quick attempt at cleaning up your ruined makeup, and hesitantly open the door to let him inside.

He immediately takes you in his arms, closing the door behind him. The feeling of his body wrapped around yours only serves to induce more tears, and you find yourself crying into his shirt collar.

“I’m so, so sorry, Jimin,” you hiccup, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how I used that one. I’m so sor-”

“It’s okay, baby.”

You pull away to look at his eyes.

“What? How can you say that? I ruined the presentation, and we’ll be lucky if they want us to come back to work tomorrow.”

“They loved it.”

“What?”

“They loved it. They thought it was bright and innovative and really demonstrated that we understood design enough to push its limits.”

You look at him in shock. They loved it. They thought it was great. Your job was safe. You weren’t going to be fired. You may even receive a promotion.

“Feel better, doll?” He smiles down at you.

For once in your life, you return his smile, while shaking your head in affirmation.

“Well, then…”

You’re still smiling but suddenly unsure of what to do. Jimin’s hands are still on your waist, and you hated how aware of them you’re becoming. He seems to notice at the same time and quickly pulls them away.

“I have a question.” His voice is soft and shaky, and his eyes shift from side to side, seemingly unable to focus on you.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

You’re taken aback. Jimin, who was usually so confident and larger than life, is now standing before you, small and meek, like an underfed puppy begging for scraps.

“I, I don’t hate you, Jimin.”

“But you must,” his voice is curt, “You never flirt back with me, yet I see you tease Hoseok all day long. You never laugh at my jokes. You never praise my work. As soon as I come anywhere near you, you close up. You snap at me, and you have no patience with me. You avoid me at all costs. So let me ask you again: why do you hate me?”

This time, instead of avoiding eye contact, he stares at you like he’s trying to read your soul.

“I really don’t hate you, Jimin.”

He raises his eyebrow.

“I just don’t want you to hurt me.”

He looks genuinely confused at your statement.

“How could I possibly hurt you?”

“The same way you hurt all those other girls.”

“What other girls?” His voice rises with defense.

“You know, the ones you sleep with in bathrooms, only to leave them broken-hearted when you never so much as glance their way again? The one’s you brag about fucking every chance you get until I want to slam my head into a brick wall? The ones that prove you’re nothing but a narcissistic fuckboy whose only goal in life is to get his dick wet? Those are the girls I’m talking about.”

Jimin looks shocked before his face morphs into an angry scowl, eyes heated and alert.

“That’s what you really think about me? That I’m a no-good player who uses girls for their bodies? Do you really think I trick girls into sleeping with me? Because you're wrong. They know what they’re getting into when they agree to restroom rendezvouses, but they always seem to convince themselves that they can convince me that I should be in a relationship with them. That’s not my fault. I would never sleep with someone under false pretenses. And I bragged about them because I wanted you to like me! Do you not get that? I don’t ever try this hard to get anybody to sleep with me, but I like you. I like you a lot, and this whole time you just thought I was a misogynistic fuckboy because you never cared to get to know me better.”

Jimin is seething, like a dog that went feral. His chest rises with heavy breaths as he backs you into the wall, eyes staring down yours. You let out a small whimper when he leans into your ear, hot breath ghosting your neck.

“If you think I’m such a fuckboy, then a fuckboy is what you are going to get.”

Before your brain can properly register his words, his lips are covering yours in a desperate kiss. Despite your lack of cognizance, you respond immediately, lips moving against his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into you. His hands ghost down your side before he grabs your ass with a rough squeeze, eliciting a whine from your mouth.

He flips you around before bending you over the sink, eyes holding yours in the mirror reflection.

“I think you’ve been a bad girl, don’t you agree? Leaving me with blue balls just because you think you’re better than me.”

Words fail you, so you nod instead. His hand slips under your skirt, softly massaging your ass.

“Don’t you think Daddy needs to punish you?”

You whimper, eyes struggling to hold his in your shared reflection. His gaze was burning with lust and fiery.

“I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes, daddy, I need to be punished.”

He grinned before flipping up your skirt to reveal the supple curve of your ass to his waiting gaze.

“Fuck, baby, do you know how long I’ve stared at this ass walking away from me, trying not to pop a boner in front of the whole office?”

He grabbed a rough handful.

“So long, baby, much too long. I think ten should suffice. Count for me.”

“Okay, daddy.” You whine.

“Say ‘red’ if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes, daddy.”

The first spank sent shocks running through you. While you expected the pain, you hadn’t anticipated how hard he would hit you, or how the contrast of his warm palm and cool rings would send pleasure singing through your body.

“O-one.”

The word barely made it out of your mouth, your brain hazy with lust.

The subsequent slap on the opposite cheek once again jolts you, and you fall forward, bracing your hands on the cold porcelain sink before you.

“Two.”

By the time he made it to five, tears had begun to well in your eyes, and you were sure your ass was painted a nice shade of crimson. By the time he made it to ten, tears had streaked your cheeks as moans and whimpers left your mouth alongside your garbled counting.

Jimin takes a moment to step back to admire his handiwork, his smirk only widening as he takes in his handprint bruised into your ass.

“Holy shit, baby, you’re so hot. You took your punishment so well. Look at how much of a good girl you are.”

Even in your hazy state, you beamed at his praise.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“I think you deserve a reward, baby girl.”

You nod vigorously at that, eager to feel him finally inside you.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.”

“Your fingers, daddy, please.”

In an attempt to convey your desperation, you grind your hips into his crotch.

“Patience, baby girl. Where do you want them?”

“In my pussy, daddy. Please. I’m so wet for you.” Your sentence ends with a light sob, the need for him overwhelming you.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

With that, he pulls your panties to the side as he cautiously rubs his pointer finger up and down your soaked slit, before slipping inside.

“Fuck, baby, your dripping. Did spanking you turn you on that much? Is my baby girl that much of a pain slut?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m a pain slut just for you.”

He adds a second finger, and your head drops between your shoulders as he begins to move his digits in and out of you at a quick but intentional pace. Moans fall from your lips, and you let out a sharp squeal when he crooks his fingers and brushes against your g-spot.

“Fuck, daddy, right there.”

He quickens his pace, rubbing you perfectly over and over again as he brings you closer to the point of no return.

“Shit, baby, I’m so hard right now. Your pussy is so tight and wet around my fingers; I just want to sink my cock into you.”

“Please, daddy, I want your cock too. I want you to cum inside me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“

Words fail you as you are sent hurtling into your orgasm, waves of euphoria crashing down around you. Your body is shaking as you collapse against the sink.

Jimin lets out a groan at your fucked-out state, removing his hand from your pussy and bringing it to his lips to taste you. He lets out a moan as he does, freehand going to the front of his pants to rub his prominent erection through the black fabric.

After you recover enough to stand, you turn around and replace his hand with your own, pussy clenching at how big he was.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?” You look up at him under your lashes, and his head falls back at your mock innocence, a light whimper escaping his lips. He tilts his head back up to look at you, hand coming to grab your waist to pull you to his lips.

You taste yourself on his tongue as your hands come to play with his hair, tugging on the strands. He ruts up into you, desperation getting the better of him. He pulls away, revealing his swollen lips and hazy eyes.

“Fuck yeah, I’ll fuck you now, baby girl.” He makes quick work of his belt zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to let out his cock and balls. The tip is an angry red, beautifully contrasted with the white of his dress shirt. Your mouth waters as you take in its wide girth and slight curve. You’re desperate to taste it, but right now there were more important matters at hand.

You drop your panties, before hopping up on the edge of the sink. Jimin gives his cock a few short tugs before lining up with your dripping entrance. You let out soft moans as he sinks into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him as close as possible. His hands grab your ass, pulling you to the edge of the sink, before slamming back in. He sets a slow but intentional pace, the sound of skin and desperate moans echoing throughout the small bathroom.

You aren’t going to last long, having already come once, and judging by his quickening pace, neither is he. Your lips meet each other in a messy kiss as he pulls you tight against his body. It’s hard to discern what is a part of you and what is a part of him. Your limbs are so intertwined, that it feels like you are one body.

As his cock continues to drill into your g-spot, stars begin to cover your vision. With the force of a freight train, you come unannounced; your mouth opens in a silent scream. Jimin follows right behind you, painting your walls white with his seed. He lets out a groan of your name, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

Both of you silently shake as you take a moment to catch your breath and process what just happened. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, watching as his cum pours out of your cunt.

“Fuckkkk, that’s hot.” He groans, tucking himself back into his pants, before wetting a paper towel to help clean you up.

“I’m sorry I thought so poorly of you.” You give him an apologetic grin, as you pull up your underwear.

“It’s okay. I can see where I might have led you to think that I don’t treat girls well.”

“Well, now I can see that I was wrong. You seem like you would be a fantastic boyfriend.” You move to exit the bathroom, eager to get away so you can process the rampage of emotions flooding through you now that your lust wasn’t getting in the way.

“I can be yours.”

You pause at the door.

“What?”

“I could be your boyfriend.”

“I-“

“I’ve liked you ever since the first time I saw you, and I think that maybe you like me, and I just really, really want to be your boyfriend.”

Your mind is racing at a million miles per hour, trying to process everything that’s happening. One moment he was fucking you like it was your last day on the earth, and now he’s standing in front of you, pleading for you to make him yours. You aren’t sure what to make of it.

“I think I would really like that too, Jimin,” he beams,” “but everything is going so fast, and I just need a little time to take everything in.”

His face falls a little, but he nods understandingly.

“That’s fair. Let me take you on a date, at least.”

You grin.

“Okay.”

“Coffee on Saturday?”

“Sounds great.”

#changeswithluv #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #fanfic #one-shot #smut #bts #jimin #park jimin #bangtan #fluff #angst

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batboyimagines · 4 years ago

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Neon lights PART THREE [Tim Drake x Male Reader]

Reading the first two parts isn’t required, but you may want the context!

That client you’ve been working for, the one that’s been keeping you both busy and afloat with their seemingly endless cash? Yeah, you figured out who that was.

Black Mask. Black. Fucking. Mask.

Now, that alone is alarming. Black Mask is one hell of a name in the underbelly of Gotham. He’s big, controls so much of the city that he can own an entire building legally. Even with the endless list of crimes to his name. It’s a pretty ritzy building too, from what little you’ve seen of it.

But that name doesn’t faze you because it’s big. You’ve gotten big names after you before, you’ve been at this gig for a while.

No, the name Black Mask makes your blood boil for one reason and one reason alone.

His gang had screwed your life over, majorly.

Once upon a time, even the very talented thief Nightlight was a normal, plucky kid. Sure, you still had trouble relating and connecting with others, but you might’ve been able to fix that! Had you had the chance.

Black Mask’s people had infiltrated your neighborhood and were starting to convince kids to do their dirty work. Kids couldn’t be arrested as easily, not even in a near lawless city like Gotham.

The few people you associated yourself with, you hesitate to call them friends, had wanted to pick up some of the tasks the goons were offering. For the extra cash, it was a pretty poor neighborhood after all.

Not wanting to be left behind, you had gone along with it. One thing led to another, and eventually you were a preteen handling highly dangerous equipment that could kill a grown man.

One piece of equipment in particular got you. You weren’t born with your powers, there’s no one else in your family that can do what you can. Though, you wouldn’t know, you and your family aren’t on speaking terms. For reasons entirely unrelated to your profession, surprisingly.

You had tripped down a flight of stairs and dropped the damn thing, you tried to catch yourself with your hands and ended up smashing the thing under your chest and it had exploded. You totally should have died. But thankfully, someone had called an ambulance just in time and you survived.

The medical bills almost made you wish you didn’t. Life saving surgeries aren’t cheap. You were almost drowning in the debt, it was only recently you’ve been able to pay it off. That’s why you picked up thievery, you would’ve never been able to scrounge up the cash to pay it all working at a coffee shop alone.

Why were you thinking of your tragic backstory? Oh yeah, Black Mask. Yeah, you’re pissed that you’ve been a cog in one of his stupid plans. Again.

So, you’ve decided to pull a hero and foil the douche’s evil plans.

After a lot of searching and eavesdropping, you’ve finally come across one of his hideouts. The plan is to totally trash the place, in hopes it might do... something. Man, you’re not a plan guy. You just want to do something, even if it’s stupid and more petty than anything.

You’re just about to drop in and get to vandalizing when a flash of familiar red stops you in your tracks.

From the roof across you, Red Robin settles down to scope out the place, just like how you were doing. He must have caught onto Black Mask’s plans. Smartie bird, you think to yourself, just a little fond.

Hang on, you may not be a plan guy but Red totally is. You’ve seen the ridiculous stunts he’s pulled, he’s brought down far crazier schemes than Black Mask’s like houses of cards. If you really want to make a dent on Black Mask, Red’s 100% capable.

Mind made up, you sneak your way behind Red. Man, it’s fun to finally be the one to sneak up on him. Red always gets the drop on you.

A short distance behind him, you wait. He’s still staring down at the building below, but he’s had to have noticed you by now, right? He’s probably just waiting for you to announce yourself. You cough into your fist.

He whips around, nearly toppling over the edge of the roof, and flings a couple of birdarangs in your general direction. You strangle the vile curses in your throat and throw yourself to the ground to dodge.

“What are you doing here?!” He hisses under his breath, hand going for his bo staff.

“What you’re doing, I think!” You shout under your breath. “You’re here to take down Black Mask right?!”

“Why would you want to take down Black Mask, you’ve been working for him!” He accuses.

“My clients are usually anonymous, I didn’t know! Can I come over there so we don’t have to keep whispering like this?!” You ask, pushing yourself to your hands and knees.

Red thins his lips, think for a moment. He gestures you over sharply.

You hop your feet and stride to his side. You kneel at the edge of the roof beside him, a foot and a half away. There’s tense silence.

Even if you did know how to plan, you honestly do want to work with Red. Maybe you’re unhealthily attached to functionally a stranger but you like him a lot.

“... sorry about your bike.” You say.

“Huh?”

“Your bike, I’m sorry for painting it. I didn’t think it would bother you that much.” Red lowers his binoculars, furrowing his brow. He inclines his head towards you. Then his face softens a little.

“Thanks,” he says. Oh wow. He sounds really nice when he’s not riled up.

“Yeah,” you say. And when he looks away, you inch closer to him.

“What do you mean you didn’t know?” He asks quietly.

“Just like I said, my clients are anonymous half the time. I was getting paid a lot Red, I didn’t look into it much. I only figured it out a few days ago.”

“I’m surprised that you’re interested in taking him down. You’ve worked for people worse than him, why’s he the one you draw the line at?”

“He’s a big part of my villain origin story. And who do you mean? Who’ve I worked for that’s worse than him?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.

“Uh, the League of Shadows ring any bells?” He asks, unimpressed. Your eyebrows nearly fly off your forehead.

“The League of Shadows?! When’d I work for them?”

“That time in Gotham harbor, with the cloud seeder.” What’s a cloud seeder? You mouth to yourself. Then it hits you and you have to bite back laughter.

“Oh my god, is that the time you hit that weird old guy where the sun don’t shine?”

“Nightlight, that weird old guy was Ra’s Al Ghul.” He says, almost amused. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull.

“You kicked Ra’s Al Ghul in the balls?!” He nods, grinning. “Dude, that’s awesome!”

“It was pretty awesome.” He admits. He pushes himself to his feet and looks down at you. “So I guess we’re working together.”

“What? Really?” You ask in surprise, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.” He fiddles with some gizmo on his wrist. “You could be useful.”

“Sweet!” You say. He looks at you inquisitively.

“Why do you want to help me? Besides our common goal of screwing over Black Mask,” you snort, “wouldn’t you want to work alone?”

“I mean, I would, but I’m terrible at planning or setting end goals. That’s why I take clients and stuff, they decide what I steal so I don’t have to.”

“So you’re indecisive.”

“Basically.”

“Alright, works for me,” he says as he walks across the roof, “I can be bossy.”

“I noticed.” You snicker a little as you follow him.

“Did you.”

#Batman #Tim Drake #X Reader #X Male Reader #Tim Drake X Reader #Tim Drake X Male Reader

167 notes · View notes

basicallywhiterice · 4 years ago

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on top of the world (dong sicheng/winwin)

pairing: sicheng/winwin x reader

genre: angst, fluff, flangst. friends to lovers, highschool!au, dancer!sicheng, spring break trip

summary: The fall to the ground doesn’t seem so daunting when you’re living on top of the world.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: cussing

a/n: if enough people get mad at me i’ll write a part 2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

this can be read as a standalone, but it is part 1 in the on top of the world series. crossposted on ao3 here!

Chinatown, Washington, D.C., 7:01 p.m.

“Honest Abe? More like, honest babe,” Lucas hollers to Kun and no one in particular, drawing a few disgruntled looks from the pedestrians waiting for the walk signal to flash again. He winks at a man in a navy suit, who rolls his eyes and looks away. Yangyang reaches over for a high-five.

“Dude was 6′ 4″, of course he’s a babe,” Sicheng whistles, leaning behind Yangyang and craning his neck to steal glances at Kun’s phone.

To your right, Ningning flits around, snapping pictures of the street displays and assorted neon lights on the storefronts. You watch her alongside Giselle, who pops her bubblegum, periodically glancing at the traffic light at the bustling intersection. Standing shoulder to shoulder with you to your left, Kun rattles off a hodge-podge of facts about Abraham Lincoln and Ford’s Theatre, which you just passed by, from his phone screen to a faux-enthused Yangyang, who shakes Sicheng by the shoulders every time Kun reads a new fact. He occasionally gets pushed into Lucas’s side, rolling his eyes while doing little to hide the growing grin on his face.

“... and apparently they planned his assassination in the building the Wok n’ Roll restaurant we passed used to be,” Kun remarks.

“OH MY GOD SICHENG ISN’T THAT SO CRAZY?” Yangyang all but screams. “IT WAS IN THE WOK N’ ROLL!”

As you glance over fondly, your eyes linger on the orange hues and kaleidoscopic shadows the nearby “do not walk” signal spills over Sicheng’s face. After a moment, he looks away from Yangyang’s exaggerated bouncing. His gaze flits upwards, meeting your stolen glance with his own.

The world grinds to a halt beneath your feet when a strong gust of wind blows through your hair, propelling you into free fall into the depths of his eyes until Giselle tugs on your arm, pulling you back into the present.

She gestures toward the “walk” signal on the traffic light, and you fall in line with her quick footsteps as you stride across the crosswalk.

“We should go there later,” she suggests. “Try summoning Lincoln’s ghost or something.”

“The Wok n’ Roll?”

“Yeah. Do you think his ghost would have his top hat?”

“I thought ghosts were just spirits and didn’t take material possessions with them?”

“Yeah, but then every ghost would be naked, which would be hella inappropriate.”

Ningning overhears, skipping up to you and looping her arm through yours. “You have to prove the existence of ghosts and take them out to dinner before you get them naked, you pig.”

“I made yo momma sound like a ghost last night,” Lucas quips. “I skipped the ‘getting dinner’ part, though.”

“Goddamn,” Giselle exclaims as you burst into laughter, throwing jokes and jabs at each other for the rest of the trek to the ramen restaurant where you eat dinner.

Hilton Garden Inn, Washington, D.C., 9:13 p.m.

After helping Giselle and Ningning unpack, you knock on the communicating door between your hotel room and the boys’ in order to bother Kun.

Sicheng answers, moving aside so you can step across. Their room is surprisingly clean, although you chalk it up to the limited amount of time they had to unpack earlier today. Lucas sits at the desk in the corner near the window, hunched over his laptop while Yangyang peeks over his shoulder. You glimpse a few pictures of the Washington Monument on his screen before he scrolls down to other marble structures.

“Are you looking up other places to visit?” you ask him.

He glances up, cracking his neck before responding. “Yeah. I can’t find anything special that we don’t know about, though.”

“It’s boutta be lit,” Yanyang chimes in.

“Ayeee,” Lucas responds. They start aggressively patting each other on the back and arms, and you take that as your cue to leave before they wrestle you into whatever weird ritual they’re performing.

Turning, you see Sicheng flop down onto the bed closest to the windows where Kun lays, sprawled out. “Hey,” Kun greets, lifting his head from his pillows.

“Hey,” you reply, remembering the reason why you came to the room in the first place. “Oh yeah! I found a stop sign a few blocks from here on a decently busy street. It’ll take ten minutes to go there and back, tops.”

He groans. “I would love to go, but I just got a stomachache. Tell you what. Sicheng,” he says, propping himself up at a snail’s pace and clasping Sicheng’s shoulder, “you can accompany her there, right?”

“To a stop sign?” Sicheng asks, looking up from his phone.

“A hand-picked, top tier, magnificent stop sign,” you proclaim. “Whenever me and Kun travel, we always get a random passerby to take our picture in front of a stop sign like it’s a tourist attraction. Are you down for potential social awkwardness?”

The corner of Sicheng’s lips tugs up into a grin. “You know it. I’m not ruining your tradition with Kun, am I?” he asks, glancing sideways at Kun for confirmation.

Kun flops back down on the bed. “Nah. If I went right now, I’d probably ruin the tradition by shitting my pants there or something.”

Sicheng chuckles. “Promise? We could print out those pictures and mail them back to your parents like a postcard.”

“I like the way you think,” you say with a scheming smile, nodding at Sicheng before turning back to Kun. “Anyways, drink some warm water to help with your stomachache, maybe? What do you think caused it?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that trashcan pizza slice in the subway.” Sicheng reaches over and flicks his forehead. “Ow! I’m kidding! Why would you torment a sick man like this? Go away and take your pictures already.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask as Sicheng asks, “You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Worst comes to worst, I’ll take a Pepto-Bismol in fifteen minutes. Go and have fun.” He waves you off, grabbing a spare pillow and lightly smacking Sicheng with it.

“Fine, mom.” Sicheng stands, pocketing his phone. “You ready? I just need to put on my shoes.”

“Yeah.” As he walks over to the closet, you sneak a peek at your reflection through your phone screen. Fighting back a sudden bundle of nerves, you discreetly smooth your t-shirt down, running a hand through your hair. Kun wiggles his eyebrows when he notices, and you flip him off, silently warning him to stay quiet.

He doesn’t. “Have fun on your date with loverboy,” he whispers.

“Shut up.”

“After you leave, should I check out the pool?” he murmurs. “Lucas and Yangyang said they don’t feel like swimming tonight.”

“What, isn’t your stomach—”

“Oh my, would you look at the time? Off you go!” He shoos you away, almost standing up to push you away and laying back down before Sicheng can turn around. You’re almost impressed by how well he set you up.

Still, though. If Kun weren’t your best friend, you’d shove him into the hotel’s fountain.

H Street Northwest, Washington D.C., 9:40 p.m.

Half an hour later, you give up on the facade of collecting anti-tourist pictures after the third stop sign, stopping by the Chinatown Express to grab a bowl of noodles with roast duck to go. You walk for a few blocks before finding a bench to sit and split it at, slurping them up in an appreciative silence.

“Oh my god,” Sicheng intones around a mouthful of noodles. When you look over, his cheeks are puffed, an empty spoon descending to rest inside the soup container.

“You look like one of those baby birds eating scraps,” you giggle.

“I’m certainly skilled with chicks,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, then scoot closer to pick up a piece of roast duck. Your knees touch, but neither of you move away. “Do you think there’s a more advanced form of life than humans, like aliens, and they view us how we view animals?” you ask, resuming the conversation you had about the meaning of life before you sat down. “Like we don’t think birds could become self-aware, no matter how intelligent they are, so then we can’t achieve the alien version of self-awareness no matter how philosophical we get.”

“Good question. Uh, alien self-awareness would probably relate to the meaning of life or something, right? Or the secrets of the universe and breaking the laws of physics. And because they’re so big brained, they could control things with their minds and be enlightened with telekinesis. So hypothetically, if I were a wise, sagely alien,” he says, gently picking up your hand and laying it flat against his palm, “I could make my hand pass through yours if I had enough brainpower.”

His hand is warm, and you hope furiously that your palms aren’t sweating. “Was this another excuse to hold my hand?”

“Well, did it work?”

You raise your eyebrows and fail at biting back your smile. “You already know, you just want to hear me say it.”

He grins. “Then say it!”

“Yes, Sicheng, it worked.”

“Awesome.” He moves his right hand to pick up his spoon, briefly tugging your hand with him until he realizes. “Fuck. Sorry, I have to let go of your hand while I eat. Unless you wanna see me struggle with my left hand.”

“As much as I’d love to watch you do that, I feel like that’d be an insult to the rest of the noodles.”

When you finally remember to stand up and throw away the long-forgotten remnants of your food, he holds your hand carefully but firmly as you walk past the White House, and you imagine his hold on your heart must feel the same.

Lafayette Square, Washington, D.C., 11:16 p.m.

“Dance with me,” Sicheng pleads, pulling you under a streetlight. You nod, but your feet stay cemented on the brick-paved sidewalk.

“I don’t know how to.”

“That’s fine.” You place your hand in his outstretched one, and he lifts your other hand to rest on his shoulder. “No one’s around to judge, so just do whatever.”

“Wise words,” you deadpan, but you let his hand on your waist guide your swaying.

He’s right, though. After the initial awkwardness fades, you find that waltzing around isn’t so bad after all—especially when he twirls you around the pocket of light underneath the lamppost so gently it feels like you’re dancing on air.

And when he dips you as you throw your head back, laughing, you think you finally understand why his eyes light up every time he finishes a dance performance.

“Is this what you love about dancing?” you ask once you’ve come back up.

He nods, eyes closing briefly. “Partly. The grand choreographies are the showstoppers, but the simpler moments keep me sane.” His eyes flutter open. “I haven’t let anyone see me dance with such bad technique in a while. I’m usually not this bad, I promise.”

“I know,” you grin. “I saw you at the winter showcase. You were amazing.” Then you take a deep breath, and brace for the worst. “The lyrical piece you closed with was the one you used for your audition, right?”

“Yeah, I—yeah.”

Abruptly, he releases your hands and steps back. You allow yourself to feel a twinge of guilt for mentioning the elephant in the room before you steel yourself for the impending conversation.

“We should probably talk about that,” he says.

“We should. Do you want to walk around the National Mall? You said you liked it earlier today.”

“Sure.”

The walk is quiet enough for you to overthink. Sicheng got accepted by a dance studio in Korea, after months of submitting auditions and traveling back and forth between countries. He’s leaving soon, even if he says he’s still waiting to hear back from Juilliard and keeping his options open. You see it in the goodbyes he keeps subconsciously saying and the memories he drinks in like it’s his last chance to, and you’re terrified of what your life will look like without him.

You glance over at him periodically, and he seems to be lost in thought too, staring straight ahead down the well-lit path. His eyebrows furrow as you pass under a streetlight, and you wonder if you brought it up the wrong way.

You’re disappointed in the crude way you shoved the future into a perfectly happy moment, then mad that you’re disappointed. It was inevitable that you’d have to talk about what would come after graduation, and it was inevitable that he’d have to remove himself from your side to chase after his dreams. It’s a wonder he hasn’t pulled away already.

Stupid, you chide yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, loving so hard that your chest implodes from all the weight it carries, already drifting through the pangs of hurt and the wisps of melancholy bringing about a premature nostalgia.

“I’m really going to miss you next year,” Sicheng confesses out of the blue.

You glance up. His hands are shoved into his pants pockets, his eyes roaming over your face like he’s trying to remember all the secrets it hides.

You think you might always run back to him. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:33 p.m.

“So.”

“So,” you echo. “Have you looked at decisions yet?” It’s a pointless question. You know he’s not going to Juilliard.

“Yeah, I looked at them this afternoon in the theater.” He clears his throat. “I got waitlisted.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not going to accept a spot on the waitlist.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “I had made my decision anyway.” Then he sighs, his nonchalant facade dropping for good. “You can probably guess.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m accepting the studio’s offer,” he whispers, as if the air is glass and the moment could shatter at any moment. The words float there, above your head, and you imagine grabbing them and hugging them close to your chest before they slip away.

You don’t. “I figured.”

“Yeah. You knew.”

You stare ahead and will the tears not to fall.

“I’m leaving as soon as school ends,” he says, with the sideways glance that marks the start of his rambling distraction process, “and flying there on—”

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurt. He pauses mid-sentence. “I’m gonna miss you like crazy. Can we talk about this, for real? You can tell me all the details later, I just—please,” and your voice cracks, “don’t dismiss this.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

A blink, and the first teardrop traces its way down your face.

You waste away the hours of your stolen youth with a boy who wipes your tears away and comforts you over the future that you’ll no longer be a part of.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:57 p.m.

“Before I leave,” Sicheng says, scuffing the heels of his shoes on the gravel pathway, “I know I’d regret it if I didn’t say something. I mean, I’m going to leave anyways, so why not, you know? I have to say something before I’m gone. Um, so, you know this by now, but I… I—” and you already know what’s coming.

“Stop. I know what you’re going to say. Give me a minute to think.”

You make the mistake of glancing up at him, his eyes wide and shining. “Yeah. Alright. Take all the time you need, please.”

In half a year, Sicheng will be gone and you will be left to pick up the pieces of your life that don’t involve him, piecing them together the best you can and carrying on like there isn’t a hole in your heart.

“I’m in love with you.” One thud of your heartbeat. Then another. “Sicheng.”

In half a year, this chance will be long gone, and if you let it slip through your fingers without grabbing on, you’ll never forgive yourself for letting Sicheng become your biggest what-if.

“I’m in love with you too.” He raises his hand to cradle your face in his palm. “Y/n.”

“I’ve wanted to say that for a while now.”

“Me too. It’s not just because I’m leaving, you know.” You nod, his palm momentarily pressing against your cheek. “You knew.”

“Yeah.”

You stare up at him, the boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and holds entire galaxies in his eyes.

“What are we?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you feel about dating?”

You freeze like a deer in headlights. “Dating?”

“Yeah, would you? Like to date me?”

And then Sicheng turns into a what-if again. “I don’t know,” you confess. “I don’t know if I could handle the split.”

“We don’t have to break up when I leave. We could do long distance,” he suggests, but it sounds flimsy even to your ears.

“I don’t know, Sicheng. I don’t want to end up losing you.”

“I know. We don’t have to, especially if you don’t want to.”

You nod once in acknowledgment, and then you’re stepping into his arms again. He holds you securely, stroking your hair and waiting for you to collect your thoughts.

“I wish we had more time,” you whisper into his shoulder an eternity later. “Could we have been doing this earlier?”

“It would’ve been too fast,” he reasons, and you’re inclined to agree. “We didn’t really… not until this year…”

“Yeah.” You’ve known Sicheng for years and have been close with him for months, but you only fell in love with each other when it was too late. “I wish we started hanging out sooner.”

“Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

“Maybe.”

You pull back enough to glance up at him, gaze dropping to his lips at the close proximity before immediately bringing it back up. His eyes follow the movement, a smile creeping up his face.

“One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?” he asks, and he says it so earnestly that it’s hard to believe he’d be wrong.

“It wouldn’t,” you agree. His nose bumps with yours and you blink up at him once, twice, and then you’re leaning in until the faraway sounds of the city fade away. He’s purposeful and patient and when all you can think of is the brush of his lips against yours, it’s just you and him against the world.

One kiss might not hurt, but one turns to two and two turns to too many and when you finally pull away and stare into his eyes, dazed, your lips tingle from the ghost of his mouth on yours.

At that moment, the way his mouth slowly stretches into a grin does something to your heart, and you think you’d let it break a million times just to be the cause of his smile.

“Yes, Sicheng. Let’s date.”

He kisses you again, beaming so wide that his teeth knock against your lips and pulling you closer, almost picking you up in the process.

You wonder if you made the wrong decision.

66 notes · View notes

dossi-io · 4 years ago

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An introduction to DeVita

Do you want to learn all about the AOMG artist DeVita? This article will cover everything you need to know about the third female member to join the labels roster.

The content of this article is also available in video format, embedded at the bottom of this article.

Prelude

In early April of 2020, the Korean hip-hop label AOMG ambiguously announced that a new artist was signing onto the label. This label was grounded by the Korean-American triple-threat; Jay Park, who’s also one of its executives. This is a label with a very organic feel and artist-oriented nature, which stands out compared to many other music labels.

On April 3rd, the label’s official Instagram account posted a video. It was titled, “Who’s The Next AOMG?” where fellow AOMG members talked about this upcoming recruit. They sprinkled small hints and details by sharing their thoughts on the artist without mentioning who.

Around the world, fans immediately began speculating on who this could be. The major consensus was that it had to be the solo artist Lee Hi, due to reporting like this: “AOMG responds ‘nothing is confirmed’ to reports of Lee Hi signing on with the label”

A few other names got thrown in fan speculations like Hanbin (B.I), previous member of IKON, Jvcki Wai, and MOON (문) aka Moon Sujin. This despite a few of these already being signed to other labels.

On April 6th, three days later, the account was updated with a part two. This time dropping more hints, which would exclude many names from fan speculations.

On the 7th of April, the label’s official Instagram account posted a short teaser. The video sported an 80’s retrofuturistic setting, with a woman turned from the camera, dressed in all black, rocking braids, and some glistening high-heels. As it seemed to be a female, some were now certain that it had to be Lee Hi. A small few actually guessed correctly that the one who would be joining AOMG would be Ms DeVita.

Finally on April 9th, it was official! She debuted with the music video, from which the teaser clips was taken from, EVITA!, which accompanied the release of her EP, CRÈME.

What does the name DeVita mean?

The name DeVita, draws inspiration and meaning from two things. Firstly, Eva Perón – also known as Evita – who was Argentina’s former First Lady. When Chloe was learning about Eva’s life, it inspired her to combine “Devil” and “Evita”, thus creating “DeVita”. The name signifies the duality of how both Eva Perón and DeVita could be perceived. Either being a devil, or an angel depending on the eye of the beholder. Secondly, Salvatore Di Vita, a character from Cinema Paradiso, was also a source of inspiration.

An introduction to DeVita

Chloe Cho – now known under the artist name DeVita – was born and raised in South Korea, until the age of eleven. In 2009, she moved to Chicago, where she would learn English.

In 2013, she went back to Korea and participated in the third season of the show; K-pop Star. A talent show, where the “big three” (the three largest music labels in Korea) hosts auditions to find the next big k-pop star. However she didn’t win, therefore neither got signed.

Later on, she returned to Chicago and graduated high school. After reflecting on what she wanted to do next, she decided to make music. In 2014, her pursuit to become an artist brought her to the talent show Kollaboration. On this show, she performed covers and actually ended up being a finalist. Despite her talents, she did not triumph as the winner of the show.

Not letting these losses stop her, she started releasing music on Soundcloud. The earliest release I could find, Halfway Love (Ruff), was from 2016. Her catalogue consisted of both covers and original music.

One day, Kirin, an artist and CEO of the music label 8balltown Records, was introduced to DeVita’s music. He liked what he heard and the two linked up. In May of 2018, WEKEYZ, one of 8balltown’s producer duos released a track titled Sugar. This track featured both DeVita, and the AOMG rapper Ugly Duck. This was the beginning of many collaborations to come.

On August 28th of 2018, just a few months later, AOMG released Sugar (Puff Daehee Mix).

This was a remix done by Puff Daehee, the alter ego of Kirin. Along with this track, it was accompanied by a music video starring Kirin, DeVita, and Ugly Duck. For most people, this was their first time seeing DeVita.

DeVita continued doing features on many songs by Korean artists while creating a little buzz for herself. There’s one notable feature, which could be seen as an important milestone in her career. That is her feature on the track Noise, from AOMG artist Woo Won Jae’s project, titled af.

In a tweet a few days after the release of CRÈME, she shared the significance of this moment.

“I was still making minimum wage working at a restaurant back when Noise dropped- I wrote my part during my shift on the back of this receipt paper. This was about a year and a half ago. A little bit after that I got a call from Pumpkin at 3am Chicago time. He said Jay wanted to meet in Philly in 4 hours. They put me on a plane and the rest is history.”

The phone call she mentioned in her tweet, about Jay wanting to meet, must have been made around September 2018. Jay was performing in Philadelphia at the time. The moment they met in Philadelphia was actually captured through a photo of the two. However, this picture ended up getting removed later on.

Fast forward a few months and Jay had just released his Ask About Me EP. The project focused on a western audience, so he went to the States on a promo run. During his visit, he also met up with DeVita once again, as can be seen here.

Finally, on April 9th, her being signed to AOMG was officially announced and she debuted with her EP titled CRÈME. Her joining AOMG, looked like something that happened pretty naturally. The vast majority of artists she had collaborated on tracks with happened to be AOMG members. Getting comfortable with the AOMG family, likely made the decision to join crystal clear.

Artistically

Just a quick look at her body of work thus far, a majority of it is in English. However, she has no issues singing in Korean, as proven by her feature on Code Kunst’s; Let u in. The tone in her voice has this sort of mixture of many singers, a melting pot of sorts. It reminds me of Audrey Nuna, SAAY, H.E.R, some vocal riffs from Dinah Jane, and at times, just a tiny bit of Ariana Grande.

As an artist, she’s still in the early stages of carving out her own unique sound and style. There’s incredible potential here, but her distinct identity is not completely there yet. I see before me a caterpillar that within a couple years, will transform into a butterfly, with its own identifiable pattern to spread its wings out on.

From what she’s shown so far, I would say she seems most comfortable doing R&B and soul music. However, beyond a quick description I prefer to refrain from categorizing her. Mostly because artists generally feel limited when categorized. More importantly, because we have no idea what she has in store for the future.

Debut EP: CRÈME

CRÈME is DeVita’s “crème de la crème”. She constantly modified the tracklist to present her debut project in a way that held her personal standard; essentially presenting us her best tracks. The result is CRÈME, which consists of five tracks, with a runtime of fourteen minutes altogether.

This EP showcases the fact that she is a competent songwriter, able to write some soulful, emotional ballads. It is completely in English and all the tracks are written by her, telling both life stories of her own and that of others. A majority of the production was handled by her “musical soulmate”; TE RIM, but other notable names, like Code Kunst show up as well.

Tracks:

Movies, introduces the project in a very gentle manner. In the track, DeVita paints a picture of a criminal couple, getting a rush, by committing crimes together. The lyrics feel inspired by movies like Bonnie and Clyde. My initial thoughts were that, for some ears, it could possibly be “too” calm as an opener. It doesn’t demand attention the way EVITA! does. Simply put, it’s not a bad track. I would just have put this track later on in the EP.

EVITA!, is something different compared to what I hear from others in the K-R&B lane. I love the 80’s aesthetic in both the track and music video. Sonically, the nostalgic saxophone riffs, warm lush synth pads, thumping bass line, results in a trip back to the 80s. With this recipe, topped with DeVita’s “current” contemporary soul and R&B voice makes for an interesting combination. The music video had that futuristic 80’s look with the neon colors, and I loved how the guns she played around with looked a lot like the “Needlers” from the Halo franchise. The title is once again just like DeVita’s name, an ode to the controversial Eva Perón. The instrumental was originally used by TE RIM, the producer of the track in 2017. His version has the same title as DeVita’s version and I recommend giving that one a listen as well, as it has a different feel to it. This track was definitely one of the highlights of the EP.

All About You, is a simple yet beautiful piano love ballad. Originating from her own tales of love, her vocals effortlessly capture what she felt during these moments.

1974 Live, is yet another ballad, but this time, with a calm guitar backing, playing a poppier R&B chord progression. DeVita’s voice is given a lot of space to be in the center of the track. As soon as I heard this track I became curious. What was the significance of this year, which would have her title the track as such? My questions were left unanswered… until the EP had marinated a while, when she tweeted: “1974 Live is about Christine Chubbuck”. In case you’re unfamiliar, Christine Chubbuck was a television news reporter, who made history in 1974. She was the first person to commit suicide live on air. According to her mother Christine’s suicide would on paper be due to an unfullfilling personal life. All throughout her life, she had experienced unreciprocated love. With this information tying back to the track, it becomes a lot less ambiguous and reveals a more cohesive narrative.

Show Me, is the final track of the EP, featuring immaculate production from the talented CODE KUNST. The sound is very moody, which fits her voice like a glove. This is my favorite performance on the entire EP, both lyrically and vocally. The lyrics present someone who’s fed up dealing with men, who talk the talk but don’t walk the walk. Now she’s looking for love with someone who’s honest and “real”.

With the project being a year old now, it has already gotten her nominated for both Rookie of the Year along with EVITA being nominated for Best R&B & Soul Track in the 18th iteration of the Korean Music Awards.

A majority of listeners seemed to enjoy the project. Many seem to be in love with her voice judging by the endless amounts of praise she has received, often described as painfully addicting, soothing, smooth, and so on.

I also asked a friend who’s a huge fan of Korean music, especially the hiphop and r&b scene to share her thoughts on the project. Here’s what she said:

"This whole project is empowering, in particular the tracks Show Me and EVITA! DeVita being a new artist, managed to impress me and many more listeners through this EP. As mentioned earlier, empowering lyrics with unique melodies and beats. Especially with the track EVITA! The fact that 1974 Live and EVITA! was referring to, two historically important women, is something that I love. This is one of my favorite EP:s of 2020 and DeVita is now included in my list of favorite artists." @Haonsmom

From what I’ve seen, only a few have been vocal about not really being too fond of the project. Some were left a bit disappointed, as they were expecting more hip-hop and R&B from an AOMG artist. The lack of “danceable” tracks was also a concern to some. Despite these criticisms, one thing was always mentioned; the girl has a beautiful voice and is obviously talented.

After listening to this EP, I hear a lot of potential. Being an EP with just five tracks, it definitely avoids overstaying its welcome. It’s brief enough to allow a listen through the entire project, no matter what you’re doing. My favorite tracks would have to be Show Me and EVITA!, but I found the whole project to be enjoyable. This EP is sprinkled with lovely vocal performances and simple but captivating production. I do still stand by my opinion that Movies would have fit better later in the tracklist if you’re chasing that mainstream ear.

I think the way EVITA! kicks you in the face, demanding attention, would’ve been a better fit as the opening track. In contrast to the other tracks, the energy level is unique, making the placement feel odd as the rest of the tracks have a chill vibe. All in all, this project gave me a taste of the “crème” but left me with a curious yearning for what this chef will whip up for dessert.

Bright future ahead

The addition of more female artists to the AOMG roster was much needed. Hoody was the first and only female member for about four years. This was the case up until late 2019, where she was then joined by sogumm, who had just won AOMG’s audition program called SignHere. Now funnily enough after DeVita, Lee Hi actually did end up officially signing with AOMG on July 22, last year.

Based on what I’ve heard during Devita’s Kollaboration days, she has improved immensely. This topped with her leaving the impression of someone passionate about their craft, bodes well for what's to come. She seems to be someone who'll constantly evolve.

Following an artist, at the early stages of their career, is something that I always find exciting. With such a lovely debut, I cannot wait to see what the future has in store for DeVita.

To view the content of this article in video format simply play the video embedded below.

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Credits:

The first image in article: Original photo, pre-edit from @jinveun

Gif from the Sugar Puff Daehee MV: @moxiepoints

#devita #krnb #jay park #aomg #h1ghrmusic #8balltown #kpop #review #korea #uglyduck #chloe devita #chloe cho #kirin #evita!#crème #moon sujin #khh #korean hip hop #krap

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flclarchives · 4 years ago

Text

Amusing Himself to Death, an Akadot.com interview with Kazuya Tsurumaki (director of FLCL and assistant director of Evangelion) from around December 2001. In the article, Tsurumaki explains a few things about Evangelion, his mentality behind FLCL as a whole, and the meaning of the name ‘FLCL’.

Full article text is under the cut, or read the article in its original form [here].

Kazuya Tsurumaki was a relatively little-known animator when Hideki Anno selected him to work as the assistant director on Neon Genesis Evangelion. For the TV series, which became a smash hit in Japan and one of the touchstones of the current surge of interest in anime in the US, Tsuramaki served as the main storyboard artist as well as assistant director, and when Studio Gainax began production on a trio of Evangelion films Tsurumaki got his first directorial assignment.

As he tells the story, Anno came to him after Eva and announced that he was out of ideas and that it was up to Tsurumaki to dream up the next project because, "you are next." Tsurumaki let his imagination run wild, but by the time he had written a script, Anno - despite his declaration that he had no stories left to tell - was already several steps ahead of Tsurumaki and in pre-production for his next series, Kareshi Kanojo no Jijo, leaving Tsurumaki a chance to have complete and unsupervised creative control of his own series FLCL.

FLCL, referred to as "Fooly Cooly" (or "Furikuri" by its American fans), is unlike any anime series to come before it. Wild, maniacally fast-paced physical comedy; exaggerated, exuberant animation alternately pushing towards surrealist- as when mecha exuviate from a bump on young Naota's head - and deconstructionist - as when the animation literally stops and the story is told by a camera bouncing across a page of black and white manga art panels; and obsessively, often irrelevantly, referential to obscure Tokyo-pop bands and anime insider trivia; FLCL was hyperkinetic and disorienting, yet mesmerizing, almost transgressive, and undeniably original. It inspired enthusiastic admiration for Tsurumaki as a creator, even amongst the perhaps 90% of the series' fans who were absolutely baffled by much of it. One is tempted to refer to it as announcing the arrival of full blown post-modernism in animation, or perhaps as the Exploding Plastic Inevitable of the anime industry.

When Tsurumaki visited Baltimore to speak to American fans at the recent Otokon Convention, predictably, many of the questions were along the lines of, "Hi, I really loved FLCL [or Evangelion], but could you please explain this part of it to me?"

Tsurumaki answered all questions genially with a self-deprecating and often mischievous sense of humor. For example:

Why does Haruko hit Naota over the head with her guitar?

Kazuya Tsurumaki: Naota is trying to be a normal adult and she belts him to make him rethink his decision.

Why does Evangelion end violently, and somewhat unhappily?

KT: People are accustomed to sweet, contrived, happy endings. We wanted to broaden the genre, and show people an ugly, unhappy ending.

Why is the character of Shinji portrayed as he is?

KT: Shinji was modeled on director Hideki Anno. Shinji was summoned by his father to ride a robot, Anno was summoned by Gainax to direct an animation. Working on Nadia [Nadia: Secret of the Blue Water, one of Anno and Tsurumaki's earlier projects] he wondered if he still wanted to work like this. He thought that working on Eva could help him to change.

Is there any particular reason why so many Gainax series feature very anxious, unhappy young male protagonists with no parents?

KT: Yes, the directors at Gainax are all basically weak, insecure, bitter, young men. So are many anime fans. Many Japanese families, including my own, have workaholic fathers whose kids never get to see them. That may influence the shows I create.

Could you explain the mecha bursting from Naota's head in FLCL?

KT: I use a giant robot being created from the brain to represent FLCL coming from my brain. The robot ravages the town around him, and the more intensely I worked on FLCL the more I destroyed the peaceful atmosphere of Gainax.

Why doesn't FLCL follow one story?

KT: In the third episode Ninamori was almost a main character, a kid who, like Naota, has to act like an adult. After episode three her problem was solved so we wrote her out. She has many fans in Japan and we got plenty of letters about that decision. For FLCL I wanted to portray the entire history of Gainax, and each episode has symbols of what happened behind the scenes on each of Gainax's shows. Episode one has many elements of Karekano; episode two, a lot of Evangelion references, etc.

Where does the title FLCL come from?

KT: I got the idea from a CD in a music magazine with the title Fooly-Cooly. I like the idea of titles that are shortened long English words. Pokémon for "Pocket-Monsters" for instance, and an old J-pop band called Brilliant Green that was known as "Brilly-Grilly."

Is there any reason why the extra scenes added to Eva for the video release were cut in the first place? Did you think the story would mean something different with them intact?

KT: The scenes that were added to Eva for its video release aren't that important. We added them as an apology for taking so long to get the video out. Maybe they'll help people understand things, because the episodes were done under tough deadlines the first time around.

Can you explain the symbolism of the cross in Evangelion?

KT: There are a lot of giant robot shows in Japan, and we did want our story to have a religious theme to help distinguish us. Because Christianity is an uncommon religion in Japan we thought it would be mysterious. None of the staff who worked on Eva are Christians. There is no actual Christian meaning to the show, we just thought the visual symbols of Christianity look cool. If we had known the show would get distributed in the US and Europe we might have rethought that choice.

After the panel, Mr. Tsurumaki sat down to speak with Akadot.

Do you enjoy confusing people?

KT: I have a twisted sense of humor. I'm an Omanu Jacku, a contrarian. [Writer's note- Omanu Jacku is a folk character a bit like Puck, a mischief maker]

What do you see differently now that you're working as a director rather than only as a visual artist?

KT: As an animator I have only the art; as a director story is really big. I still feel as an animator and I often have trouble putting the needs of the story first.

Did you intend from the start for FLCL to be as bizarre as it wound up?

KT: From the very start I wanted a different flavor. To achieve this I had to re-train the animators to be as stylized as I wanted them to be because I wasn't drawing it. I knew that not everyone would get it. I deliberately selected very obscure J-pop culture and anime sub-culture jokes and references. Because Eva was so somber I always intended to make FLCL outrageous and wacky.

Why the choice to break out of conventional animation and use manga pages? Was it at all a response to how many anime are using computers to achieve smoother and more realistic visuals? Were you trying to go the opposite direction?

KT: I like manga, not only to read, but the visuals. The pen drawings, the frame breakdowns and layouts . . . This is the first time I have used digital animation, and those bouncing manga shots wouldn't have been possible with cel animation. Personally I'm not interested at all in using computers for realistic animation. I'm impressed by it sometimes, but I'm interested in using computers to do what was once impossible, not to do smoother versions of what has already been done. I want to be less realistic.

Has using digital animation techniques changed the way you work, or the way you feel about your work when you see it? Does it still feel like it's yours if a computer did much of it?

KT: Before I got into digital animation I saw other shows that were using it and I felt that there was no feeling, it was empty. As an animator, there's a sense of release when you draw a cel. There's something there. Working on FLCL, though, I learned that computers can do more, and, most of all, that they allow room for trial and error and revising, more freedom to experiment. That is why I now feel that cel art cannot win against computers. For actual animation everything is still drawn on paper. That work hasn't changed. It's the other stuff, the touchups, and coloring. If we didn't use paper, maybe the feeling would change.

Earlier today you said that you were trying to broaden the genre by giving Eva a sad ending. Does the sameness of much of today's anime bore you?

KT: First of all we didn't use a sad ending to annoy fans. When they're upset, that really bothers us. Personally, I think a happy ending is fine, but not if it is achieved too easily. That's no good.

For all the fans that are confused at all, if you had to define in one sentence what FLCL is about, what would you say?

KT: FLCL is the story of boy meets girl. For me it is also about how it's ok to feel stupid. With Evangelion there was this feeling that you had better be smart to understand it, or even just to work on it. With FLCL I want to say that it's okay to feel stupid.

Even though it may be strange to us, do you have in your head a logic behind it? Are you trying to portray a story that follows the logic of dreams, or is it supposed to make sense symbolically?

KT: I'd like you to think of FLCL as imagination being made physical and tangible, just as it is for me when I take whatever is in my head and draw it.

So what are you working on next?

KT: Right now Gainax has told me that they'll support anything I choose to create, but I'm having trouble coming up with any ideas.

Why is that?

KT: Releasing titles for market, I know I have to make something to please fans, but I'm not a mature enough person to accept that fact. If I'm not amusing myself I can't do it. I feel bad that fans have to put up with such behavior from me. I apologize.

#FLCL #Evangelion #archive.org #Kazuya Tsurumaki #also i can upload the text as a PDF if anyone would like it!#things like these articles make me realize the people who say FLCL is too confusing aren't artists. because as an artist this is cathartic-#-to read. i'd kill to be able to make something as high-strung stylized and full of weird references as FLCL.#and with GAINAX too? holy shit #interview #article

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